


caution: high temperatures

by itsukoii



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1992, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, Gay Richie Tozier, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Post-IT (2017), Sharing a Bed, Sleepovers, Submissive Richie Tozier, because richie gets off to eddie grinding against him in his sleep, kind of an unresolved ending sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsukoii/pseuds/itsukoii
Summary: When Richie wakes up in the middle of the night to a dick against his ass, he's not prepared for the rest that follows — but he's not complaining even for a moment.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 335





	caution: high temperatures

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i've had this idea in my head for months and finally got around to writing it. some warnings before we proceed:  
> \- they are 16!  
> \- dubious consent because richie gets off while eddie is sleeping  
> \- internalized homophobia and use of some slurs  
> \- masturbation, a blow job
> 
> uhh i think that's it! pls enjoy

_July, 1992_

Sleeping in the same bed has never been an issue for _RichieandEddie_ ; they sleep in the same bed at every sleepover — not a surprise, they have been for the longest time and they'll continue to do so; though, that is a fragile hope.

Because in the middle of the night, Richie wakes up to the feeling of something warm against his back and something hard against his ass. What the _fuck_ is—

Oh, god, shit, fuck, it's Eddie. It's _Eddie_ being the big spoon to Richie's bigger, lankier body, because Eddie still hasn't hit a considerable growth spurt and he's still so _small,_ and Eddie's face only comes up to the base of Richie's nape, and Richie can feel his hot breath. It's _Eddie,_ with his goddamn pants-tent pressing against Richie's ass. It's _Eddie_ with a fuckin' boner, in his sleep, and as soon as Richie realizes, he's fucked, because the heat from Eddie spreads to Richie's own crotch so damn quick it sends his mind spinning, his breath hitching, his body tingling. Eddie is still asleep.

Richie wonders what he's dreaming about. It's obviously a hot dream — why else would he have such a raging hard-on? It's probably about some girl, Richie thinks, an instant pang going to his constantly aching heart. Of course it's about a girl. Eddie isn't like Richie.

Eddie isn't like Richie, because if their places were switched, Eddie would've shot out of bed, probably pushed Richie out on the way, reached for his inhaler and then kicked Richie out. What Richie does is none of that — of course, because he's not Eddie, but also because he's... he's—

Richie lets out a silent breath of his own, his chest tight; there's no sign of Eddie waking, which Richie takes as a blessing.

Or perhaps a curse, because there's nothing stopping Richie from guiltily enjoying the feeling of Eddie's hard dick against his ass; there's nothing stopping him from shamefully giving his hips an experimental roll to feel what it would be like to have Eddie grinding into him—

And then Richie's not the one rolling his hips to feel Eddie more, _a little deeper_ — it's _Eddie_ himself, responding to Richie's grind with his own, still unconscious in slumber.

This is wrong, and Richie knows it. He _knows_ he should scoot away, crack a joke should Eddie wake up and face Richie in this state — but he doesn't, because it's something he's wanted for so _long_ and he knows he _shouldn't_ and that it's _filthy_ and Richie's _diseased_ and— _and—_

And Richie's dick speaks louder than his brain, apparently, because through the cold shivers of anxiety the warmth of Eddie against him overrides any sense he's got (which isn't much to begin with). He lets himself stay put when Eddie grinds against him again, and Richie gasps just as Eddie's mumbling sleepy nothings into his nape. _Fuck._ Eddie's so hard, and Richie is too, and everything feels so _warm,_ so _hot hot hot—_

His hand doesn't feel like his own when he reaches down, and the ever-so-gentle brush Richie gives to his crotch is enough to send a shiver through his spine; everything's so damn _hot_ but Richie can feel the threat of a cold sweat spurred on by nerves, and there's just so much _happening,_ there's so much _feeling—_

Eddie groans low right into Richie's nape, and Richie's biting his lip trying to ground himself amongst the flurry of varying temperatures lashing at his senses. Everything is overwhelming and _fuck_ Eddie's grinding against Richie again; with his other hand, Richie covers his mouth because he's afraid of what might happen if he doesn't. He brushes at the tent in his pants again. He _moans_ into his palm, his eyes squeezing shut, but it's muffled. Eddie barely stirs.

Boys shouldn't be sharing beds at sleepovers. Not at sixteen. Not even at thirteen; Richie doesn't share beds with Stan or Bill — hasn't since he was twelve,

 _(Richie, aren't we a little too old to be sharing a bed?_ Circa 1990.)

_(Nonsense, Eds! Stan and Bill have never complained!)_

But Eddie thinks he does — because to Richie's fourteen-year-old-brain, it seemed like a good idea to tell him that — and so _RichieandEddie_ remain inseparable, even in the dead of night. Richie is beginning to feel karma getting him back for lying to Eddie just so he could feel the accidental brush of his skin, feel the heat radiating from him in such an agonizingly close proximity, hear his soft breathing when Eddie's finally in a peaceful sleep — and then Richie's feeling the sickening tightness of disgust claw at his belly, because he's just a _filthy dirty fairy fa—_

And then the presence of Eddie is louder than Richie's thoughts are, his mind going bleak as Eddie groans quietly and grinds into Richie again, and all Richie can do is lay and take it on top of the covers because it's summer and it's hot and _everything's is hot;_ Richie's breath against his own hand clamping over his mouth is making his palm feel sticky, it's uncomfortable, everything is so uncomfortable but it feels so _good_ at the same time — Richie can't resist giving his cock another gentle brush in rhythm with Eddie's hips, and then he's grinding back against Eddie, feeling his hard, hot erection against the clothed cleft of his ass. He lets himself recall the first time he ever dared to play with himself _there,_ and it felt so good it had terrified him. He finds himself yearning for that feeling again, intensified by how close Eddie's dick is to that spot, while he breaks out into another round of cold sweat as the shame overwhelms him; and yet he doesn't remove himself from Eddie, because _fuck,_ Richie's so lost in the filthy pleasure of it all, his morals are skewed and he's acting on instinct — and that instinct is telling him to keep chasing the good, heated feelings wracking his body as Eddie grinds harder and Richie touches himself rougher — not daring to dip into his pants and touch himself directly, but he doesn't need to, because he's so turned on, just palming himself is pushing him close to the edge, and then, and then—

Richie slips two fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking them obscenely like he often does while masturbating. It feels so _good_ to have his mouth filled, and then his mind is wandering to what it would be like if it were Eddie's cock instead of his fingers — and then _fuck,_ Richie's gasping around his slick fingers, followed by a quiet moan when his hips jerk back in reflex, and then Eddie's grinding in response, groaning low, and Richie's _getting off to his sleeping best friend humping against him_ and it's so _wrong_ and then—

With a louder moan he can't hold back, Richie feels the tight heat come undone in his lower belly and he's coming in his pants, his hips jittering and twitching with high moans escaping his throat, vibrating around the fingers still in his mouth. A heavy blanket of guilt washes over him as it happens, but before he can wallow in the consequences of what he's done, a stirring behind him makes him freeze.

"Mm... Richie? What the fuck?"

 _Oh, fuck no._ Eddie's rough, deep, sleep-ridden voice shocks Richie out of his stupor, and Richie's spine cracks painfully as he jerks his upper body too fast backwards — and when he's faced with Eddie's doe eyes and furrowed brows, his jaw falls open and flaps uselessly, because his brain has shut down because _Eddie's dick is still against my ass and he's awake and I just got off to him oh my god no—_

Richie has never cursed his fear of the dark as much as he is now, because the gentle glow of his nightlight means he can see Eddie despite not wearing his glasses, and then — against his own will, his eyes flick down to where his ass is _still_ pressed against Eddie's crotch, unmoving, before flicking up to Eddie's wide gaze. And then Richie knows that Eddie knows that Richie knows that Eddie's hard. _Fuck._

Richie should crack a joke, because that's what he always does to get himself out of awkward situations. But what slips out instead completely bypasses his already barely-there filter, and he regrets it as soon as it comes out, because _what the fuck, Tozier?!_

"Let me suck you off."

 _What the fuck. What the fuck._ Why did he say that? He watches in utter shame as Eddie's big, brown eyes widen so much, Richie's concerned they're going to pop out. And then Eddie's jaw drops and mimics the flapping that Richie's did, and Richie's cheeks go hot with embarrassment. _He hates me. He's going to hate me. This is the end._

"I mean — so you don't have to go, uh, take care of it in the bathroom, or wait it out here because that would be weird—" _as if offering to suck him off is any less weird!_ "Just, like, pretend I’m a girl or something. I’ve been told I look like Joan Jett." _Not fucking helping._ He's trying so hard to sell this to Eddie, it's pathetic and weird and _dirty_ and Eddie's not even gay and—

He swallows as his mouth stops running, sitting in the agonizing silence as Eddie's intense gaze burns deep into his own, clearly weighing Richie's proposition in his head.

And then he speaks, and it's so like Eddie, Richie wants nothing more than to shut him up with a kiss — but he doesn't, because the thought alone terrifies him. Richie's not sure where his priorities are that lead him to blurt out an offer to suck his best friend's dick yet be afraid to ask to kiss him, but Richie's never had very well-aligned priorities in the first place.

"Do you have any idea how unclean genitals are, Richie? Are you not aware that _pee_ comes out of there? Why would you want to put something like that in your mouth? And, and— that's... kind of gay, isn't it?"

Richie freezes up at the last part, whispered like it's something that shouldn't be said, but Eddie didn't freak out, so that's a good sign.

"You seem to have forgotten the time Bill dared me to eat dirt and I didn’t even hesitate. This trashmouth can handle anything, Eds." Eddie's nose wrinkles in disgust. "And— about the last part, nah, just pretend I’m a girl, like I said." It pains Richie to say, but he's willing to make the sacrifice if it means he gets to blow Eddie like he's secretly had wet dreams about since he was fourteen.

Eddie chews the inside of his lip in contemplation, and Richie notes then that his erection hasn't faltered in any way, so that must be a good sign.

"C'mon, let me blow ya' — no strings attached, a one-night event!" _Shut up, Tozier! shut up!_

And then, after more contemplation, Eddie scowls, and finally, he sighs.

"Fine."

Richie fucking _beams._

"I know what I’m doing, promise. Your mom's—"

"If you talk about my mom as you're about to suck my dick I swear to god I will punch you in the nose."

The vulgar talk makes Richie shiver, because it's finally hit him that he's about to blow Eddie _fucking_ Kaspbrak.

"Oh yeah, talk dirty like that."

"Shut up." and Richie does, for once, as he mentally prepares himself for his endeavor. He moves away from Eddie, painfully aware of the loss of warmth against his backside, and grossly aware of the drying cum in his boxers. Eddie moves back to sit against the headboard as Richie lowers himself down the bed, settling into a sort of half-curled position because he's too long to comfortably lay on his stomach in the small space. By the time he's settled, he's faced with Eddie above him, legs spread and eyebrows furrowed. His hair is mussed from sleep and Richie wants to muss it _more,_ but instead, he swallows hard and creeps forward, leaning his weight on his right elbow as he approaches intimidatingly close to Eddie's erection, clear as day behind his pajama pants. Any joke Richie thinks to make dies on his tongue as he feels small under Eddie's intense gaze, knowing everything he does is being watched. He's suddenly thankful for his own bad vision and that his glasses are far off on the night table stand, because he doesn't think he could handle looking at Eddie dead-on. Richie takes a breath.

"I’m gonna— gonna touch you now, 'kay?" he murmurs, all too aware that this is really _happening_. when Eddie nods from above, Richie uses his free hand to pull the drawstrings free of the bow they were in before curling his long fingers below the waistband of both Eddie's pants and boxers. He holds his breath as he carefully, shakily, pulls them down. Eddie lifts his hips up off the bed and helps undress himself, and before Richie knows it, he's face-to-face (face-to... dick?) with Eddie's erection as it springs free, slapping back against his stomach.

The gentle glow of the nightlight and streetlights filtering into the room make the atmosphere feel a _little_ too intimate for Richie's liking, but just as he thinks that, his attention is brought to something far more important.

Eddie is… a _lot_ bigger than Richie had anticipated, which both intimidates him _and_ enthralls him, feeling his mouth begin to fucking _water_ like a dog being told to "wait" for a treat. It's not the longest thing in the world — that was expected, but it's far from something to laugh at — but it's _thick,_ thicker than the two, sometimes three fingers Richie puts in his mouth.

"Stop staring at it."

"Sorry," Richie mutters, cheeks flushing, because oh, _right_ , he's supposed to suck it, not ogle it like it's his next meal.

Propping himself up higher on his elbow, Richie's now looking down on Eddie's cock, his long, curly hair haloing his face, and then he's using his free hand to grab it and pull it towards himself. It's hot in his hand and Eddie softly hisses at the contact, which urges Richie on to give it an experimental stroke.

He thinks back to what he's seen girls do in porn and tries to imitate them, thinking about how good it always seems to make the guy feel. He wants to make Eddie feel like that.

Richie wastes little time with foreplay because Eddie's as hard as a rock and Richie can sense his impatience. Slipping his tongue past his lips, Richie gives his first lick to the head of Eddie's already-leaking cock. He expects the taste to deter him, but it's not bad — just a little odd-feeling — and Eddie reacts instantly, groaning low.

A few more kitten-licks have Eddie wincing when Richie dares to look up, his face blissed, and it encourages Richie to continue. Despite the nerves making his body tremble, he does, and experimentally wraps his full lips around the head of Eddie's dick and lowers his head to let it sink deep into his mouth, being cautious of his big teeth. The moan Eddie lets out is music to Richie's ears, and because he wants to hear more of those noises, he hollows his cheeks and flattens his tongue against the underside of Eddie's erection. As hoped, Eddie makes stifled sounds of pleasure and his hips begin to jerk.

"Oh, fuck, _Richie..."_

His name from Eddie's lips in such a lewd manner goes straight to Richie's crotch, despite having already come once already; the heat filling his mouth and the way Eddie's reacting is turning him on beyond belief, so he begins to bob his head — and just as he does, he feels fingers lacing through his dark locks, giving a gentle tug, and _oh,_ that feels good, so Richie bobs his head deeper, taking Eddie in further, earning him another tug and moans tumbling from Eddie's mouth. They're low and almost feral, and fuck, is it turning Richie on.

Then Eddie does something that catches Richie off guard, but it makes him moan around Eddie's dick, surprising himself. Eddie thrusts his hips up to shove his cock deeper into Richie's throat, and, at the same time, uses the hold he has on Richie's hair to force him down. Following the moan, Richie makes a choking noise, and Eddie retracts his hand from Richie's hair like he's touched fire.

"Shit, Richie, I’m sorry—"

Furrowing his brows, Richie lifts himself up off of Eddie's cock, all the sucking making his lips tingle.

"Didn't expect you to be so rough, Eds, but I, uh—" he doesn't look up, pondering his words. "I kinda liked it?"

"Really?" Eddie asks, eyes wide in surprise, and Richie nods earnestly. In truth — though Richie's as virginal as they come (not that the other Losers know that, of course) — he's gotten off on imagining himself submitting, on being manhandled.

“Yeah, don't worry," Richie assures, taking Eddie back into his mouth. They resume the earlier position, and now Eddie is gently fucking Richie's mouth as he maintains a hold on his long hair, and Richie's moaning as he's being used, his arousal high and his cock hard. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he takes Eddie in as much as he can, and when he dares to look up again, Eddie's looking down, arousal clear in his face and his mouth parted as he groans.

"Fuck, Rich, can't— won't be much longer..." Eddie's voice is hoarse, and Richie continues to suck, to lap, to take in all that he can and push Eddie to the edge. He feels a tugging at his hair as if signalling him to pull away, but he doesn't. He sucks hard and Eddie's hips buck. "Richie, fuck, I’m gonna—"

And then with some erratic thrusts Eddie is coming down Richie's throat, but Richie doesn't budge. He milks Eddie for all he's worth and doesn't flinch as the bitter taste coats his mouth, because it's Eddie's cum, and _holy fuck,_ Richie just sucked Eddie off _and_ swallowed his cum, and it's hotter than any fantasy Richie's ever had.

Eddie is heavily panting above him when Richie pulls off and lets Eddie's softening cock slip from his swollen, red lips. Richie's never felt so proud of himself, and he’s panting just as hard as he tries to catch his breath.

"Holy shit," Eddie murmurs, pulling his boxers and pants back up once he's a little more calmed down from his high. Richie cracks a lopsided smirk, sitting up and running a hand through his sweaty curls.

"Yeah," he says, and then a more pressing matter makes itself known. "I’m gonna, uh— go brush my teeth," he lies, because what he's _actually_ going to do is jerk off for the second time and clean up the inside of his boxers. Gross.

"Yeah, you fucking should. What the hell." Eddie's smiling as he says it, though, so Richie knows he's teasing. Richie gives him a captain's salute before escaping to the bathroom, taking care of business. He doesn't brush his teeth because he doesn't want to scrub away the evidence of what just happened, because _what the fuck,_ Richie doesn't believe it.

When he returns to bed, Eddie's fast asleep, and Richie smiles at the sight. He crawls in beside Eddie and slips into the best sleep he's had in years.


End file.
